Dancing With Fate
by Kasey Clark
Summary: Dean meets someone who could finally recover the relationship he lost so long ago with his mother. Meanwhile Sam struggles to deal with the pain of overcoming Jess
1. Barbank

**A/N: This was supposed to start off as a Oneshot, but I figured out I can't do those. So...I was watching Dead in the Water and decided to write a fic. But Im sorta burned out on action ones, so don't expect that in this one. Im dealing more with the two's emotions and physcological stuff. Just a forewarning.**

Why'd places have to get so cold? I mean, I didn't mind chilliness, I preffered it actually. But God I hated the snow.

So when we drove through Colorado, in the middle of January, I should have guessed a snowstorm would come through and stop us.

"Hey, Dean, I think we should stop someplace, it looks like its getting pretty nasty out," Sam said from the passenger seat. The sky outside was dark, thick gray clouds preventing any sunlight from shining through. Although it was only two in the afternoon, it felt like eight.

"Dean, I'm serious," insisted Sam when I failed to answer.

Taking a better glance at the sky, my brows knitted. "Eh...we got some time. Lets get another thirty miles in."

"We still have to find a hotel."

"Listen, Mom, I got it." My voice raising, I gripped the steering wheel harder. The previous night's hunting trip was still weighing heavy on my mind. After three hours of playing cat and mouse with two potergiests, both Sam and I had managed to disperse them. But not without some lasting scars.

As though my brother were reading my thoughts, his hand ran over his ribs, where an old oak desk had been shoved at him. He was still watching the wheather, doing the whole brooding lover who's life's been turned upside down act. I hated when he did that.

My trained eyes skimmed the roadsign on the side of the road. Subconsciously, I knew little Sammy was right, the storm was coming fast, and if there was one thing I learned from Dad, it was to not play games with the wheather. But I was sure as hell not about to tell him that. It said there was only ten miles 'till Barbank. Sounded like a tiny town, but at that point I'd take anything to stop Sam's whining.

Turning off the interstate, I drove the Chevy on into the town. It was larger than I suspected, actually. There were modern department stores, plenty of franchised-owned restaraunts, even a mall.

"Check it out, we got civilization."

"For once."

"Just shut up and keep your eyes peeled for a hotel.And don't find the most expensive one, either."

"Oh, yeah, that's right," Sam chided. "I forgot, I let you go into Bath and Body Works a couple days ago and you spent all your poker earnings in there."

"Hey! The cashier said that vanilla lotion smelled good on me!"

"Whatever-" He was cut off. They had just driven by a vast empty lot. The remains of what seemed to be a large building laid in ashes on the ground. Reading the sign, I cursed.

"Motel 8 apologizes for the inconvience. We understand that this is the only hotel chain in Barbank and our people are working diligintly to re-build. Until then, there is Frank's Motel, which has a half-off deal to tourists. Thank you for your patience." Sam read.

"Frank's motel? That sounds...inviting." I ventured. It was always my luck. Because I was a Winchester, the odds were constantly against me.

"Let's go check it out," Sam sighed, running his hand through his long hair. I could tell he wanted to make a smart-ass comment, but was too worried about the storm.

-----

"Every room! Sixteen rooms and not one is available?" I yelled. Ten minutes had passed and we'd made our way to Frank's. It was off a dirt road, settled in the back of a herd of trees, looking no larger than a trailer.

"Sorry," a guy in an opened flannel shirt and too short jeans replied. He was smoking a cigerette, breathing so close to me I smelt every scent of the man. His five o'clock shadow and grimy hands finalized my suspicion that he hadn't showered in days. "We're all booked. That skiing convention being held in Willows County out there, caused everyone to get a room."

"Can't they share a room or something. We only need one for tonight," Sam cut in. I knew he was the better talker so I stepped out of the way, allowing him to deal with stinky.

"Listen, man. I ain't got any rooms! How else do I have to get that across to you?"

"But there's a storm about to come, and we need someplace to keep safe..." he was cut short by the other guy reaching under his desk and returning with a rifle.

My eyes widened. We weren't getting a room, that I saw. But getting a gun involved was alittle above and beyond.

"You put that rifle down before I come over there and slap it outta your hand!" a strong female voice projected behind us. Turning around I saw a middle aged woman, with short blonde hair and a expansive body standing in the doorway. Her arms and legs were short, and she was wearing clothes that looked like a Florida tourist's dream, the orange flowered dress rustling in the hardening wind.

"You stay out of it, Cassandra. I'm trying to teach these boys the meaning ah no!" the man behind the desk yelled, spitting his light unto the floor. I noticed, though, that his hands had moved to the desk, where he put the gun down.

Flicking the man off, she turned her attention to us. "Trust me, kids, you don't wanna stay here. Otis has lice in the sheets."

I stole a glance at Sam. He was attempting to keep an even expression, but it was a struggle. Knowing he wouldn't be able to say anything worth value, I jumped in.

"And where do you suppose we stay...Cassandra?"

The woman looked at me harder. Up close I could see the wrinkles beginning to form around the sides of her eyes. She would seem threatening to some, but I saw her in a different light. She reminded me of an over-worked mother whose main goal in life was to keep her family happy.

Her ruby red lips turned upwards a notch. "You two can stay in one of my extra rooms. Lord knows my house is big enough to run a hotel system. And probably a lot cleaner than most places too." the woman's dark blue-gray eyes seared into me. It felt as if she was looking into my heart, seeing every little secret of mine.

I didn't like it. I thought for a moment to take another chance at Frank's, but Sam was already reeling the lady in. Asking her how much, if we'd be putting anybody out, blah blah blah.

"Not at all. Like I said, my house is huge. I only share it to my two daughters, so no need to worry about being bugged on. And all you have to pay for is the groceries you eat. Cuz I can't afford to feed two full grown men...just isn't in my budget!"

Sam laughed. He could be a real suck up at times. I imagined him in college, asking the teacher for help, and telling him he'd go make copies of something for him. Whatever college boys did to win over the proffesor. I sure as hell didn't know. Even more, I didn't care.

Before I knew it Sam was pulling on my jacket, leading me to my baby, away from the infamous "Otis" and out into the brewing storm.

The woman told me to follow her Civic, that she'd lead the way.

"...and if you so much as think about her daughters I'll wring you. We found a place and I don't wanna get kicked out." Sam droaned on. Sometimes I wished there was a mute button on him. Thankfully that day my "mmhmms" and "sures" and "got its" were enough to pacify him.

----

The first drops of rain began to fall as Dean and I were unloading our bags. Cassandra was right. Her place was huge. The structure was built off of wood, with pained glass windows spread about, and a long gravel driveway leading all the way to the back of the house. There was a hint of elegance to the home. I felt it didn't belong in a small Colorado town, but someplace in the Northeast.

Dean didn't like Cassandra. I could tell. Back at the motel lobby, when she had looked him dead in the eyes, he was strewn up about it. At first I guessed it was how the woman had approached us, but once we were in the car he still hadn't shaken it off.

I liked the lady. It was still too soon to pinpoint why, exactly, but she let of a good vibe. I supposed it was her just inviting us into her home like she did. I just prayed Dean wouldn't screw it up for us.

"Hey, you want lavender or magenta?"

I came out of my thoughts. Focusing, I saw Dean standing between two doors, pointing to both.

"Uh, magenta, I guess?" Confused, I waited for Dean to explain.

"You sure, the flowers are prettier in lavender."

Stepping forward I peeked a glance in one of the doors. It was painted a light purple, with a cream colored carpet. The furniture was tasteful. A white iron bed with matching nightstands. The comforter and sheets matched the walls, with purple rose prints.

"Yeah...you're more of a pink-ish, purple-ish guy anyways," I replied, walking into the other room.

It was apperent only females occupied the house. The dark pink paint stopped alittle more than halfway up, replaced by white. Instead of white, the bed and dressers were a dark brown. But the bedsrpead was just as bad. It was white, with large leaves and carnations for design.

Dropping my bag on the queen sized bed I cringed slighty as a clap of thunder shaked the sky. I'd never liked storms. They scared me, even at twenty two. When I was younger, and had shared a room with Dean, I used to crawl into his bed until the worst of the storm had passed, him wrapping an arm around my shoulders and convincing me everything would be alright.

The memory shook me worse than the thunder. Childhood had seemed like an eternity ago. So much had happened since then. Primarily...Jess. I'd arrived at Stanford completely clueless. She'd taken me in, became my friend. Then, over time, our friendship grew, and I realized just how much I needed her in my life.

Just for that short amount of time, I had believed she'd replaced Dean.

**A/N: Don't worry, my chapters aren't usually this short, at least this story's won't be, I just wanted to test it out and see of people like it.**


	2. The Truth Revealed

A loud scream rang up from the first floor, floating into my ears. I had tried to catch a few hours of sleep before Cassandra finished dinner, but no such luck.

Struggling to stand up, I took one more long glance at the bed. It was such a relief to have something to sleep in that wasn't a motel bed. I only wished I could have stayed longer.

Walking down the carpeted stairs, lightening lit up the house for a brief moment. Thunder followed a few moments later. I wondered, briefly, where Dean was. And if he was shying away from the fierce storm like myself.

Curiousity over who had let out the scream overpowering me, I continued on into the living room. Standing on one of the hardbacked couches, her eyes narrowed and in her arms, a small teddy bear, was one of Cassandra's daughters.

Upon seeing me, her eyes moved further down. From the looks of it, I supposed she was no older than six or seven.

"Hi, little girl. What's your name?" I ventured, taking a small step towards her.

The girl stepped off the couch and retreated. Every step I took, she would back up a few paces.

Eventually, I stopped and held out my arms in an act of innocence. "Were you the one who screamed?"

I thought for a moment she was going to answer me, her mouth opening a notch and her green eyes rising a bit. She tugged at her dark brown hair, which was clipped up with plastic flowers. She was a pretty girl, even at that young of an age. I knew, in about ten years, Cassandra would have her arms full with her. Especially if there were any Deans in Barbank.

"Don't be scared...I'm a nice guy. It's my brother you should be worried about," I tried once more. As the words escaped my mouth, her little feet drifted to the open door next to her, still keeping her eyes on me.

Knowing I wasn't getting anywhere fast, I pulled out the Snickers Dean had told me to hold for him. Maybe bribing would get her to talk.

"Do you want some candy?"

Her eyes narrowed again, but I knew I'd caught her attention. Opening the wrapper, I broke off a piece and placed it in my mouth.

"Mm..it's pretty good."

The feet moved closer. One tiny hand outstretched to where the food was.

"But first tell me your name."

Dropping her hand, she made a motion to walk away again. God, she was annoying. But, as I sat on the couch bribing her, it began to dawn on me that she was more like me than anything. I could picture myself doing that to do Dean fifteen years ago.

"Fine." My fingers broke a minute chunck off and held it out.

Taking it, the girl chewed slowly. Swallowing, she turned her attention to me, and said easily, "Danielle."

While I was soaking in my short victory, Danielle snatched the Snickers out of my hand and walked breezily through the door.

"Damn," I whispered. She might've had my attitude, but she most definitly had Dean's sneaky talent.

-----

Hail had begun to fall. Already there were several overturned trees lying haphazerdly across the driveway and lawn. One had landed on the pathetic swing set, causing it to be dented inwards.

I barely noticed that atall. My thoughts were on Sam and our temporary roommates. We had yet to be stuck in conditions this bad since the beginning of our trip, and I wondered if Sam was still terrified of storms. He used to be so scared of them. I remembered one, in particular. I was thirteen, him nine. Dad had found us a small apartment in a town in Iowa. It was our first night there, and I'd finally gotten my own room. I'd just fallen asleep, the rythmic patter of the rain hitting my window soothing me, when Sam sprinted into my room and unto my bed.

Angry that I'd been awakened, I shoved Sam. Still half asleep I had no idea what was happening. I just wanted to catch sleep in my new room, alone. As I slowly started to come to, my eyes focused on the little boy. He had moved out of my bed and stood by the doorframe, the light in the hall lighting him up. I could see streaks of tears on his cheeks.

I tried to apologize. Even offered to sleep in his bed duringthe next storm. But the damage was already done. Sam had never rushed to my bed at the first sounds of thunder ever again. Except one time when he was sixteen, but that was a different story.

Hearing the rain made me feel guilty. What would have happened if I hadn't accidently pushed him away. Would he still run to me for a false sense of comfort?

I shook my head. Thinking about the past wasn't good. I had to stay in the present.

I heardpots and pans being moved below me. Cassandra was preparing dinner.

At the thought of the woman, I forwned. Another disturbing thought. When the woman had stared me down back at the motel, I'd felt...weird. She made me feel oddly cold. My heart had begun to do sumersualts, and all of I sudden I began to hide everything. As if she could read them thorugh my eyes.

I made a point to figure out more about that lady during dinner, then talk it over with Sammy.

----

"Pass the rolls, please, Sam," a young, slim woman pleasently demanded, arm oustretched. Her long, thin blonde hair and fair skin had caught my attention the moment I saw her.

"Sure thing, Rosalind," I answered, placing the bowl in her hands. The food was delicious. Fried chicken, baked vegetables, rolls, even a full glass of milk was a wonderful change from fast food. Seeing Dean's stuffed cheeks, I took a guess that he, too, was enjoying the meal.

"I'm not hungry," Danielle whined from beside Dean. She was holding unto her stomach, her fork placed in her green beans.

"Did you get into the cookies before dinner?" Rosalind asked reproachfully. My eyes widened. I had completely forgotten when I'd given the girl the Snicker's bar that it would ruin her appetite.

Danielle shook her head. "No, go look in the jar."

Dean pointed to her piece of chicken. "If you're not gonna eat that, can I?"

My cheeks turned red. Dean had never been one for manners, but I figured he'd had more than that.

Danielle shook her head, giving Dean the initiative to stab the poultry with his fork. Quickly, I kicked my older sibling's shin.

"Ow!" the man yelped, showing everyone what the chicken looked like chewed up.

Cassandra chuckled.

All eyes turned to her. The woman had a gleam in her eyes. One chuckle led on to another one. Then another. Eventually, she composed herself and returned our gazes.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to be so loud. But, Dean, what would your mother do if she saw you right now?"

Both of us tensed up. It was always hard to talk about Mom, even if it what happenedwas twenty two years ago.

"O-Our mom passed away a long time ago. Hence my brother's lack of table manners," I said softly. I knew it was easier for me to answer questions than Dean. He had actually had a relationship with the woman.

"I'm so sorry," Rosalind cooed from her place next to me. Her eyes, just like her mother, showed a hint of liquid. "Our dad died last September. I know how hard it is to loose a parent."

"That's terrible. We're sorry, also."

Rosalind shook her head. "Don't be. Danny and I are strong. Aren't we?"

"But look on the bright side," Dean said, regaining his voice. "At least you've still got your mom here for you."

Awkardness fell upon the table. Instead of agreeing with Dean, Rosalind stood up and gathered her plates. I saw her shoot a brief glare to her mother.

But the moment was over as quickly as it began. "Yeah," the young woman plastered on a fake smile. "Yeah. We still have her." Giving one more momentary glance at me, Rosalind walked briskly out of the dinning room and into the kitchen.

Turning to Cassandra, the woman had also put on a fake smile. Suddenly I felt horribly out of place.

Breaking the silence, Danielle chirped up. "One day," she began, poking the beans, "When I own my store in New York, I'll make sure nobody fights when strangers are around."

"How about you worry about finishing the first grade, first, honey," Cassandra answered, standing up also.

"Ah, already got big dreams," I commented.

The look Cassandra shot me could've killed. "That's all they are..silly dreams."

I frowned. Could Dean possibly be right? Was Cassandra a bad person. Still too early to tell. But I didn't like her shooting down Danielle's hopes like that. It reminded me of Dad when I was growing up.

Walking into the kitchen, I made my way over to Rosalind. The girl was pretty also. Their father must have been a handsome man. It had surprised me, when those thoughts had popped into my mind. And afterwards I felt extremely guilty, like I was cheating.

"Need any help?" I asked, walking over to the sink. Rosalind was scrubbing a plate with such force I was afraid the dishware would break.

"No, I got it," she said shortly.

Gently, I took the plate from her hands. Grabbing a dish towel, I dried it off and placed it on the counter. "I'm sorry if I made you upset back there. I honestly didn't know about your father."

Rosalind stopped, putting a glass back in the soapy water. Lowering her head, then lifting to the ceiling, she slowly began to shake it. "It's not your fault. I shouldn't have done what I did. But, you must know, my mother and I aren't on the best of terms."

I let out a short laugh. "I can relate. Me and my dad have been fighting since I was born."

"Yeah, well..." she stopped.

"What?"

"It's nothing. I've said too much already."

"No..go on. I promise, I'm the last person to judge you. If you saw one day of my life you'd think, 'Wow they're the most screwed up people on the planet.'"

"I don't know. It's pretty bad to hold such resentment towards one of your parents. I don't even deserve half the things I have."

"Don't say that. Besides, every kid hates their parents. It comes with the birth."

Rosalind smiled. We had finished washing the dishes, and were making our way to the hallway. "I feel more anger towards her than I should. There are so many factors, it's so hard to get over it."

"Well, if it helps you feel any better...I haven't spoken to my dad since I left for college...four years ago."

"That does help, alittle." We were climbing the steps. "Do you mind me asking why?"

I thought about lieing, but knew that she was being honest with me, I might as well return the favor. "He didn't want me to go. Wanted me to stay and, work with him. So when I actually left, he told me never to come back."

"That's horrible. But I can relate. My mom wasn't thrilled about me going, but my dad convinced her it was alright. That I would survive."

"You must really miss him."

Looking away, Rosalind said, so quietly I barely heard. "You have no idea."

------

Darkness had taken over the house quickly. The clouds forming from the rain created long shadows to befall the walls of the house. I was walking aimlessly through rooms. Sitting still just wasn't working for me. And Sam was busy talking to the oldest daughter. I debated busting their party up, but figured Sam needed the female contact. He hadn't so much as flirted with another girl since Jessica's death. And his irritability drove me out the window at times.

I tried holding a conversation with Danielle for awhile. But I was never that good with kids. She tried to get me to play in her Barbie dollhouse, but that wasn't flying with me. I made an excuse that I needed to use the bathroom and left.

Stepping into a large room set off the living room, I squinted. Candles sat on shelves, hundreds of them, it seemed. On the oppisite wall was one of those old fashioned couches, with a blanket tossed over the top. The table in front of it was covered, too, in a silk sheet with swirling blues and golds prints. Set in the center, on top of what looked like a moon, was another candle.

Connected to one of the side walls was a bookcase filled to its maximum. Reading some of the titles, my brows furrowed. "History of Physcic Connections," "You and The Other World," "Learn To Control Your Power In Ten Days."

"What the fuck?" I whispered as I read on.

Making my way to a second shelf, a voice behind me caused me to jump.

"Interesting? Isn't it? How one thinks they know someone. But people are full of surprises. Aren't they Dean?"

Cassandra stood by the door, arms folded. She was smirking.

"What is going on?" I demanded, pointing a finger to the books. "What's all this stuff?"

Cassandra let her arms drop and grabbed a chair that was in the corner, setting it on the other side of the table. I wished she would have lit some candles, the room was so dark. Only a minature chandlier on the ceiling allowed me to see.

She pointed to the chair and took a seat on the couch across from it. "Have a seat, Dean."

One part of me told my body not to. To not give her the satisfaction of doing what she wanted. But feeling my switchblade strapped around my leg convinced myself that the woman wouldn't succeed if she tried to attack.

I sat down.

"You knew something was off with me," Cassandra said smoothly. I'd never heard anyone with a voice like hers before. It reminded me of ocean waves. Beautiful, but harsh and unforgiving at times.

"You're used to searching for any flaws in people. I can tell...But you couldn't figure mine out. And it bugged you. I could see that. And I'll admit...I was amused."

"So what is your big secret?" I growled. She was still using that damn voice.

"See, I thought you'd figured it out at dinner, when I slipped."

"Well I haven't! So just get on with it!" I was becomming impatient. The lady was toying with me, and I, unfortunatly, was allowing it.

"You can't honestly tell me you don't know."

"I don't! What? Are you some physcic? Can you read minds? If so, then I'd like you to read mine right now, 'cuz that'll tell you how I REALLY feel about this!"

Cassandra chuckled, smoothing out her dress. Another flash of lightening lit the sky. It's bolt was too close for comfort. "I'm far from being a physcic."

I stood up ubrubtly. I couldn't take it any more. My anger was getting the better of me. But I was so frustrated. Storming to the door, my hand on the doorknob, Cassandra's next words stopped me dead cold.

"Dean? Have you ever wondered what Mary thinks of you? You know, how've you've turned out?"

Another lightening bolt. Immediatly following it, the power shut off and we were left in complete darkness.


	3. Oppurtunity Shattered

"Wow."

"Uh huh."

Goosebumps ran across my arms. The power had shut off twenty minutes ago, but Rosalind and I hardly noticed. We were in her enormous room, sitting across each other in lounge chairs.

"So, your mom, she's had that gift all her life?" I asked. We had both gotten two Cokes out of the mini fridge and I was gulping mine down as fast as I could.

"I wouldn't call it a gift. But, yeah, she has. That's her job."

"Does she own some sort of store or something?"

Rosalind glared. "Oh no. She invites people right into our house and practices 'her talent' right where Danny can see."

Somehow, being cooped up in Rosalind's room relaxed me. Ittruely was a large place. She had a walk-in closet and a seperate room attached for a desk and bookshelves. I imagined it to be her own little apartment. But everywhere I looked I saw Jess. In Rosalind's taste of decorating, in jewelry lying on the dresser. Everything.

"Does Danielle know what your mom does?"

The girl shook her head. "No. Dad and I have tried to shield her from it. But, I think she somehow knows."

"Why would you say that?"

"Because, all her life all she's ever talked about was getting out of Barbank. She wants a completely different lifestyle. My mom hates it when she talks about it, she wants Danny to stay here."

My thoughts wondered unitentionally. As Rosalind was telling me more about Dann'y hopes, I noticed a hairbrush lying on one of her nightstands.

Jess used to have the same brush. I remembered it so clearly. The first holiday I spent with her, she had accidently left her brush at her parents. She was so angry with herself, that I went two hours away and got it back.

When I handed it to her, she cried. That was the first time I knew I'd truely do anything for her. Even something as small as getting her brush back.

"Are you alright?" Rosalind asked, pushing a strand of hair back and attempting to get my attention back.

"Wha- Oh yeah, I'm fine," I replied, forcing my eyes away from the object.

Rosalind smiled. "No, you're not. C'mon, I just spilled my life story about my mom to you, the least you could do is tell me why you're acting so distracted."

Sighing, I put my head down. "My girlfriend, Jess died about about four months ago. And I haven't exactly been able to move on yet."

"Oh my goodness. I'm so sorry. How'd she go?"

I closed my eyes, wishing she hadn't asked me that question. "She was murdered."

I briefly saw Rosalind's eyes grow wider. Her face paled alittle. "Sam, that's terrible. Please tell me you found the bastard and he's sitting in some jail cell, rotting."

I felt myself shaking my head. "No."

A few more minutes pass in silence. I knew Rosalind was racking her brain, trying to come up with something to say. Anything to make me feel better. But we both knew there was nothing you could say to take the hurt away.

"Is that why you're still not at college? Because you couldn't go back after her death?"

I hadn't expected that question. "Well, sorta. Right now it's more important I take care of my big brother. He's looking for my dad. I decided to help him out."

"I know that situation."

"What do you mean?"

"I decided to drop out when my dad died...there was no way I was going to let my mom take care of Danny alone."

I frowned. "So, you put your life on hold for your sister?"

"It's not that hard to believe, you stopped your life for Dean."

The room became cold suddenly. Rosalind's words cut at my heart. What she said was true, I had stopped everything for Dean. And there were times when I regretted it. But he needed me and that was all I needed to go through with it.

I heard soft bumps and thuds coming from downstairs, but I paid no attention. It was most likely Cassandra. What Rosalind told me freaked me out. The woman was a medium; able to talk to the dead, able to tell people all they've ever wanted to know about their deceased loved ones.

Jessica. Once more her face popped into my head. Could Cassandra talk to Jess? The idea hadn't even dawned on me until that moment. How bad would it screw me up though? I wanted more than anything in my life to be able to apologize to her, to tell her I didn't mean for her to get hurt, for her to know I still loved her.

"Sam?"

"Yeah?" I asked impatiently. The girl had a knack for interrupting my thoughts at the deepest times.

"Will you promise me that?"

"Um, can you repeat, I missed it."

Rosaling looked slightly annoyed. "Promise me you won't go asking my mother to talk to your girlfriend."

"Uh, sure. But can I ask why?" And just like that my momentary glimpse of hope was cut to peices. The oppurtunity arose, and then dashed away before I could grasp it.

"Because, I've had to watch tons of people go into that room, so full of hope that they'd finally get closuer. But when they walk back, usually their worse off. They change when they're in there. Once people die, Sam, you're not meant to speak with them again."

-------

"Well Dean?" Cassandra's voice pounded in my ears. Every detail of the room looked different than when I first came in. Before, I was just a guy looking for answers to why the owner of the place was so different. But after hearing my mother's name, I changed. Twenty two years of pain and questions and anger could be gone from one woman.

I looked over my shoulder, not daring to turn around. Although it was useless. The power had blown, I couldn't see a damn thing.

"She's been following you and your brother since I met you. Her and..oh what's her name. Oh! Yes, yes...her and Jess have become real close. They watch over you two boys like hawks."

My heart stopped once more. I could understand how she got Mary, we'd mentioned our mother being dead at dinner, she might've found out her name by Sam. But I knew he hadn't told her about Jessica. That's a subject that stayed between us two.

Cassandra noticed my reaction. I hated being in the dark, I couldn't tell where the bitch was.

"Your mother talks about you all the time Dean. She loves you and Sam so much."

"You're a liar!" I yelled. I didn't scream it, but it was loud enough for someone in the next room to hear.

"Oh I am? Am I?" Cassandra pouted. I could feel her presense near me, almost felt her breath on my arm. "Well why don't you sit down, and I'll show you how much of a liar I am."

Her hand grasped my arm. I snatched it back quickly, taking another step towards the door. "Don't you dare touch me."

I heard her sigh, could figure out her impatience from her tone of voice. "Dean Winchester, your mother says you hunt evil things for a living, so I know you gotta believe in mediums and physcics and people with powers. So why don't you believe me?"

"Stop saying things about my mom!" This time I didn't try to stay quiet, nor leave out the hint of fear in my voice.

"Fine, you still have doubts, even after I told you about Jess, I guess I'll have to resort to the whole story-telling act. Which...by the way, I hate."

"Oh, well sorry to put you out like that," I commented snidely.

"You remember how I laughed so hard at dinner tonight?"

I rolled my eyes, refusing to give her the satisfaction of an answer.

"When you were young, before the fire, do you remember when your parents held that party. The one where everyone used the fine china and you had to wear that suit?"

I stood stock still, listening.

"Before the party, your mother told you all about it. You asked her why everyone needed all those different forks and glasses and knives. Your mom chuckled and explained to youthey were all so you could look nice while eating. Then you told you'd never look nice. And if you ever became one of those important people you'd make sure everyone ate finger foods, no forks. Man, you were so dead set on doing that, your mother couldn't help but die laughing. For the next week you didn't get anything but finger foods for lunch. So when your mom saw your manners with us, she was so terribly embarrased."

The memory of what I just heard whirled through my brain. Once Cassandra mentioned the story, I remembered it perfectly. I was furious at having to figure out what fork to use for the salad and which one for the actual meal. It was the beginning of my love for fast food restraunts. But how the hell did she know that.

There was only one right answer.

She really was a medium. And really could talk to my mother.

After waiting past the alloted time slot to answer, I sat down on the floor. My vision of my mother was blurry. It'd had been too long. But I could see her smile. The one she always used with me. The one that showed me just how much she loved me.

I dreamed of her smiling sometimes. Watching us sleep, looking down at Sam and I in our dingy hotel beds, and showing her beautiful white teeth. Like she was actually proud of us.

"Did I really embarrass her?"

Cassandra let out a breath. "Guess this means you believe me now?"

I allowed the woman to touch me. Allowed her to drag me to the couch. Allowed her sit next to me and say, "We've got a lot of time to make up."


	4. Stormy Confrontation

**A/N: I am terribly sorry for taking so long to update, but with school resuming I have had no time. Hope you all are not too angry with me. :)**

"She's a beautiful woman. Such a shame for her to have passed so young." Cassandra spoke. Her words were echoing through my head, bouncing off around my ears, causing a whirlwind of thoughts to appear.

"Should Sam be here..he was her son too?" I asked, swallowing hard.

"Do you want him here?"

I swallowed again. It would be wrong to say that I didn't. He never got to know her, this would give him a chance to actually understand how great a woman she was. But a part of me did not want him to join. I was the one who had known her. I was the one who had followed her around, clinging unto her. He'd had Jess. He didn't need to hear Mom.

"It's alright if you don't," Cassandra cooed. "Mary understands. She knows, late at night, when you sneak out to your car...she knows it's her your crying over. She's perfectly aware that Sam misses her and loves her, but it's you Dean, that was truely torn up over her death."

"If she wants to talk to anybody, it should be my father. He's the one who never recovered. He's the one who only thinks of her, night after night." I responded. I had become angry that the woman knew about my moments of weakness. Knew that I snuck out when Sam was asleep, sat in the driver's seat of my car, stared out into the unknown world, and silently sobbed.

"She loves you so much, Dean...please let her talk. It'll be good for you. You might never get another chance."

I thought of the past twenty two years. There was so much I could talk to her about. So many questions I could ask. If I had grown up the way she wanted it. If I made her proud. If she was dissapointed I hadn't paid any mind to school.

"Just get on with it," I demanded through clenched teeth. My hands were curled together in a tight ball, unseen in the pitch black darkness.

----

A deafening clash of thunder resounded in my ears. Moments later a tree with thick heavy leaves fell against Rosalind's wall, bringing with it a loud thud. Once the young girl had made me swore never to ask her mother to contact Jess, the air of the room had become tense. The friendly conversation had dwindled, replaced by awkward silence. We had sat listening to the storm, cringing every great once in awhile when an especially ferious bolt of lightening lit up the sky.

"So why are you and your brother in Barbank, anyways?" Rosalind asked, twirling her now empty Coke can through her slender fingers.

"We were just driving and the storm sort snuck up on us. We had to pull into the nearest town for shelter."

"Fair enough," the woman nodded. "Do you and your brother always drive through Colorado in the middle of winter?"

I frowned slightly. "We're sort of, on a road trip."

Rosalind smiled. "In the middle of winter?"

"Yeah, Dean's job runs through the summer so we decided to go now." Lying had become easy. My entire life I'd picked up the skill. What to say, what not to say. But somehow, telling this fake story to my houseguest caused a wave of guilt to run through me. Although I was good at it, I hated doing it. And having to be so dishonest when Rosalind had told me all about herself hurt even more.

"You're lying," Rosalind answered quickly, standing up.

A look of surprise had crossed my face. I hadn't expected that response.

"No offense to Dean, but I'm beginning to think more and more that he's a pretty crappy brother."

I stood up also, defensive. I didn't mind people picking on me, calling me names or insulting my way of life. But to mess with my older brother, to say he was a bad brother, when really, he was the best one anybody could ask for, was my limit. "Excuse me, I don't appreciate you making that kind of judgment. You don't know me well enough to say something like that...and besides, Dean is an awesome brother."

"So that's why instead of having you face your girlfriend's death he's letting you run away from it. That's why you still haven't been able to stop thinking about her," Rosalind said calmly. She wasn't afraid of my anger, she didn't back down when my voice rose.

"How can you say these things! You don't even know me? Yet, all of a sudden, you're my very own Dr. Phil?" I spat back, angered that my attitude had failed to have any effect on her. "You know nothing about me! You cannot just get to know me for a few hours, then start dishing on my family and my problems!"

"Sam!" finally Rosalind's voice had risen a notch. "My father died five months ago! Just one month before your girlfriend! Don't you think I know what you're going through? Don't you think I recognize the hurt on your face?"

Shaking my head I turned around. I didn't want to hear what Rosalind had to say. Her words were too much. They brought all the hurt back. All the memories of Jess and the hopes that had been washed away came tumbling towards me once more.

"Don't you think I saw the way you looked at my things? The pain that crossed your eyes when something reminded you of her? Don't you think I saw the look of guilt when you accidently slipped and showed a smile to me?"

"Please stop..." I pleaded softly. The hurt was becoming too strong.

"How many girls have you passed up because you haven't come to grips with the death? How many oppurtunities have you wasted?"

Instantly, like a light being turned on, Lori's face appeared in my head. Dean and I had gone to her town, strictly to kill the hook man. But when we got there I was drawn to her. We both had so much in common. She was the first girl I actually felt feeling towards since Jess. And after we had left, after the Impala's wheels had spun out of town, all I felt was hurt and shame. I had led Lori on, making her believe I might actually stay, allowing us to kiss. Then left her staring at the rear of Dean's car.

For days afterwards I couldn't talk. I was so ashamed. I had felt like I had cheated on Jess. Asked her over and over to forgive me.

"All I can figure is that Dean made you go on this road trip to get away from school and to come to grips with your girlfriend's death. But whatever he's doing, it's not helping. You still look as if it happened a week ago."

Was I using the 'road trip' to come to grips with Jess? The more I thought about it, the more I believed it to be true. Dean was never a good talker, he always let his actions speak. Maybe he thought tracking down the thing that killed my girlfriend would erase the pain. Maybe he figured killing all the paranormal bastards out there would allow me to forget what had happened.

"Your girlfriend will always love you, Sam. But do you think she'd want you to stay in mourning? To put your life on hold?" the girl asked, slowly putting a hand on my shoulders. "No! She'd want you to overcome this! To take one final look back, and use her loss as an oppurtunity. A chance to better yourself at whatever you want. To give you more determination to reach your goals."

"Don't talk about Jess like that! You don't know her! You don't know me! You think she'd be proud of me dropping out of law school! Of leaving all our friends in the past and spending the rest of my life in a car with my brother? You think she'd be proud of that!" my voice had reached the screaming point. Rosalind had stepped over the line. She had pushed too far. "And what about you! You think coming back home and leaving your old life behind is coming to grips with your dad? Or is that just what Cassandra says? Are you able to move on because you can talk to him whenever you want?..See for you, it's easy, never having to actually say goodbye, having him there forever. But not me! I never even got to say good-bye! Never got to say 'I love you' one last time!"

My words fell into the air. Although my back was turned, I could tell by Rosalind's hand going stiff, by it immediatly removing itself from my shoulder, that my words had cut her.

"If what your doing makes you happy, Sam...then yes, Jess is proud. It doesn't matter what it is, as long as your doing what you want, then she's looking down on you and smiling."

Rosalind's icey voice brought another guilt-induced feeling. It amazed me that she could remain that calm, even when I had hurt her so much.

"Sam, I'm sorry I couldn't help you. But I'm even more sorry that you can't help yourself. Because if you haven't already tried to move on...you never are. You are going to live with this for the rest of your life. It's going to tear you up until there's nothing more inside of you. And you know what? That, is when Jess will be dissapointed in you. When you ended your life with hers, stopped living."

Before I could stop her, Rosalind had left the room. I heard her soft feet pattering down the hall, slowly fading as she moved further away. My eyes burned from the salty tears forming in my eyes. I wanted to punch something, wanted to scream at the top of my lungs, but I also wanted to curl up into a ball and cry, let all the sorrow come flooding out. Rosalind's last statement had been the straw that broke the camel's back. It made me realize what she was trying to say all along.

As much as I believed I was moving on, I truely wasn't. I kept promising myself, once we found the thing that killed her I'd be able to get on with my life. But it had been five months, and still nothing. The guilt brought on by her death prevented me from living.

The thunder was beginning to fade. It could be heard miles away, a sodt rumbling. No real threat any longer. It had accomplished what it wanted, stirring up dirt and trouble and causing an upheavel.

"Oh Jess," I said to the empty room. Falling down hard on the large bed, I rubbed my face harshly. Covering my eyes in my hands I allowed a few tears to escape. "Are you really happy with me? Do you truely not hate me for everything I've done?"

A part of me wanted to hear an answer. To hear her voice assure me that it she did still love me. I hoped that she would appear, just as mom had at our old house and I could get another look at her beautiful face. But just like all the other nights, where I was locked inside a small hotel's bathroom, sitting on the toilet, my guard down, no answer came. Nothing but the distant sound of the clock running on batteries ticking was heard.

Laying down, I wished Rosalind hadn't left. I hated being stuck in the room, with only my broken heart for company. Pulling out my wallet I flipped through the pictures until I reached the one I wanted. It was taken on a bright sunny day, in the middle of a large park, with trees and old benches lining the walkway. In front of an old oak, sitting down, her feet wrapped under her, was Jess. I'd taken that picture at the end of September, when we both had gotten out of classes and wanted to take a walk in the cool wheather. Seeing her mesmorizing eyes and her blonde hair shimmering in the sunlight gave me a different feeling than I usually got. My heart felt determination, a need to overcome the constant depression that had taken over me.

Sitting up, I knew there was only one possible way to do that. I needed Cassandra. I needed to speak with Jess one last time. To finally say the things I wanted to tell her for so long, to recieve the answers to my burning questions.

Pushing Rosalind's promise out of my mind, I made my way downstairs, in search of closure.


End file.
